


Seven times Elim Garak fell into a hole (and who pulled him out again)

by Arati_Mhevet



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27630821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arati_Mhevet/pseuds/Arati_Mhevet
Summary: Everyone needs a helping hand, and Elim Garak more so than most. Some drabbles.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	Seven times Elim Garak fell into a hole (and who pulled him out again)

**Open for Business** (Emissary)

“You’re not staying, are you?” Quark has been eying the space for months now.

“It’s my shop,” says Garak, as if that explains everything.

“Looks more like a bomb site. Parting gift from Dukat, eh?”

“I suppose I should be flattered.”

A group of Bajorans walks past, celebrating. One of them sees Garak and spits. “Nice,” says Quark. “Very nice.” He looks again at the mess. “You’ll have to go to bed sometime, you know. But don’t worry. I’ll keep an ear open for you.”

“Oh yes? And what’s your price, Quark?”

Quark smiles; all teeth. “I’ll think of something.”

* * *

 **Rewiring** (The Wire)

Even with the pills, his head hurts. He feels sick and sad and scared. Worst of all, he feels frail. If he stays in his quarters any longer, he’ll never find the courage to leave, and so, much sooner than promised, he dresses for the day, plasters on the smile, and goes to work.

Mid-morning Dax arrives, bright and breezy. A whole new wardrobe is required. He knows what she’s up to, but he has little capacity to resist. Still, when she leaves, he stands with his hands on a bolt of fabric.

_Perhaps I can make something of this._

* * *

**Another Throw of the Dice** (The Die is Cast)

What goes around comes around, and here he is again standing in the ruins of the shop. Is it worse, this time? He’s lost more, that’s for sure – stock, equipment… Also, the Order, Tain, and any chance of getting home. Yes, it’s worse. He gambled everything, and lost.

“Hello.”

Garak turns. There’s a small figure standing in the doorway of the shop. Rom. In one hand he holds a bucket; in the other, two mops.

They set to work. Later, Garak takes him to the bar and buys him supper. He will never forget this, as long as he lives.

* * *

 **Ninth Circle** (Inferno’s Light)

Tain is dead. Alone in the holosuite, Garak performs the ritual with replicated flowers, real blood, and tears.

Tain is dead, and the enormity opens before him like a chasm. What is he supposed to do with this freedom? What does it even matter, now, this late in the day?

In Quark’s, Ziyal keeps steadfast watch. She’s shrewd, this one; strong and loyal and kind. He would not be surprised to find himself surrendering to her one day. She offers the fantasy of belonging, and the promise that even the children of monsters might somehow come through intact. Might thrive.

* * *

 **Mayday** (A Call to Arms)

He told Ziyal, when he saw her to the shuttle, not to underestimate his gift for survival, but the truth is he’s running out of options. He can hardly hide on the station for the duration, and there is no mercy in Dukat to throw himself upon.

Which leaves Sisko, but that path too is fraught. Has he done enough, over the years? Too much? Has he earned at least a little pity? There really is nowhere else for him to go…

Sisko barely even blinks. He’ll have to think of a way to thank him. Like winning the war.

* * *

 **Aftershocks** (Afterimage)

Ezri’s interventions have been useless, but he leaves her thinking otherwise. No harm in being kind. Work is the key. Routine. Each morning, he takes the pills for the tapestry of pain, walks to the shop (not the turbolift), eats at his bench (not the bar), and alternates between codes and hems.

When O’Brien comes in, Garak says, “No time for holosuite costumes—” The Chief doesn’t care. “These new security protocols are a bloody mess,” he grumbles. “What do you think?”

O’Brien, Garak recalls, knows about prisons. About pain. So he takes the offered padd and promises to help.

* * *

 **What Goes With You** (What You Leave Behind)

Garak stands where a city once stood. He’s home, but it’s gone, all gone.

_I can’t go on._

But there’s a hand upon his shoulder. A voice speaking to him, saying words he’s longed for years now to hear.

_“If I stayed… I could stay… Can I stay?”_

The days that follow – the weeks, months, years – might, from a certain angle, be considered a nightmare. Frontier medicine, if ever there was. And love, among the ruins. One morning he wakes and thinks that, from a certain angle, you can see the crack where the light gets in.

_I’ll go on._

**Author's Note:**

> 19th November 2020


End file.
